


we're giving love in a family dose

by haloud



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Anxiety, Family Dynamics, First Dates, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakuya has never had a reason to learn how to dance.  He’s also never worn a real suit or picked out flowers or, for that matter, even been asked on a date.</p>
<p>Well.  Until now, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're giving love in a family dose

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from aretha franklin's we are family lmao. also the doc title for this was 'let sakuya have nice things.txt,' so that's more or less what you can expect

Sakuya squirms in front of the mirror, tugging at the bottom of his blazer, adjusting his collar.  How ridiculous does he look?  Would Shamrock notice if he took just a little hair gel from his personal stash just to smooth down that stupid fucking cowlick?  Maybe Mahiru is onto something with that simple haircut of his.

Mahiru probably has never spent this long in front of a mirror in his life.  Sakuya gulps.

“Sakuyaaa?” A voice trills from the doorway, making Sakuya jump a foot in the air.  The only full-length mirror in Tsubaki’s altered floors of the hotel happens to live in Belkia’s room.  His options had been either to show up on Mahiru’s doorstep looking ridiculous or to risk getting waylaid by an irritating magician.  And while Sakuya is sure that Mahiru would never make fun of him for his appearance...it was too probable that looking weird would lead to a night full of little white lies ( _ you look good! I’m so happy to see you! _ ).  And tonight Sakuya just wants to breathe, and have fun.  So he takes the risk.

“Hello, Belkia,” Sakuya says through gritted teeth, hunching his shoulders as if bad posture will hide how he’s all dressed up.

“What on  _ earth  _ are you wearing?” Belkia says, flouncing into to the room.  “It’s so very  _ you!  _ So drab, so boring!”

Sakuya mumbles something and tries to scurry away to the door, but Belkia flings out an arm and catches him.

“But I suppose you are trying your hardest,” he continues, “Oh!  I know!  What you  _ really  _ need is a  _ hat.” _

“Why did you run off, Beru?” Someone says in the hallway.  Sakuya groans, trying more insistently to tug his arm from Belkia’s grip.  But, alas, he fails to break free before Higan pokes his head into the suite.

“I was just coming to freshen up, but then I found little Saku in front of my mirror.”

“Ah.” Higan steps in and, taking a drag on his cigarette, looks Sakuya up and down.  “That jacket doesn’t fit you,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sakuya replies sarcastically, finally jerking his arm away from Belkia’s perfectly manicured fingernails.  “Will you guys just let up?  I’m going to be late at this rate.”

“Late for what?”

How come whenever any of Tsubaki’s subclass has something going on, the others always have to flock to it?  Are they all that terminally bored?  Sakuya would smack himself in the forehead if he wasn’t worried about leaving a mark.

Shamrock, having been the one to ask that disapproving question, is standing in the doorway now, arms folded and foot tapping.

“Noth—“ Sakuya starts to say, but he cuts himself off.  Lies are foul enough on their own; lies about Mahiru feel bad enough to make him sick.  He takes a deep breath and continues.  “I have a date.”

“With the Eve of Sloth, hm?”  Sham’s mouth thins and one eyebrow peaks in disapproval.

Sakuya’s shoulders are somewhere in the vicinity of his ears now.  “…Yes.”

“Does Tsubaki know?”

Tsubaki hadn’t asked, and Sakuya had been too afraid of possible consequences for Mahiru to bring it up himself.  But regardless, this suit hadn’t just appeared out of thin air, and Sakuya hadn’t purchased it himself; it had just shown up on his bed one day.

Not to mention the gray fox lapel pin that had shown up with it.

“I think so,” Sakuya says.  He slides his hand into his pocket and runs his finger over the little enamel fox currently hidden there.  Is it supposed to be some sort of blessing?  Tsubaki wouldn’t be this subtle if it was meant to be a warning.  A wave of emotion rolls over him like it had when he first saw the suit—gratitude and, as always, wonder at why someone like Tsubaki is so loyal at the same time he tries to destroy everything.

“Hmph.  Very well.”  Sham strides away from the room, smart shoes clicking all the way down the hallway.

Something pricks Sakuya in the side, and he jumps.  “What the—“

“Stand still.”  Higan’s voice is muffled through a mouthful of pins, and he sticks another one through the hem of Sakuya’s suit jacket. 

“What the actual fuck.”

“’S too long on you, too big.  This old man’s been around a while, can take it up and in.  Make you look smart.”

“Found it, Higan~!”  While Sham berated Sakuya, Belkia had been rummaging around under his bed, and he emerges now with a white-sequined little pouch.  “My sewing kit!” Belkia exclaims, coming over and unzipping it for Higan’s perusal.

“t’ll do,”   Higan says with a sage nod.  Next he grabs Sakuya’s wrists and peers critically at the length of the jacket cuffs. “Off,” he says then, taking the blazer and retreating to a corner of the room to start sewing.

“Don’t you have a different shirt you could wear with a suit?” Belkia demands, circling Sakuya with his fingers pressed to his chin.

“It’s white, what the fuck is wrong with white?” Sakuya replies.  Sweat starts to gather under his collar; a headache builds behind his eyes.  He would have hoped that becoming a creature of the night would somehow cure migraines, but he’s apparently not that lucky.

Belkia glares at him and wheels around, muttering to himself as he starts rifling through his closet.  He surfaces with his arms laden with ties of all colors and patterns.  “What is the Sloth boy wearing?” he asks, holding a pale green tie up to Sakuya’s hair.

“I—I don’t know, should I know?  Probably a suit? I didn’t ask!”

The next tie Belkia holds up is electric blue, but it gets discarded immediately.  He tosses two more—one houndstooth, one yellow with black cats all over it—over his shoulder as well, clucking his tongue disapprovingly.  “Coordination is important, Saku.  How am I supposed to know how to accessorize you if you might end up clashing horribly?”

“Does it really matter?  I mean, it’s Mahiru, if it’s a suit he’ll probably just wear black and white…”

Belkia heaves a put-upon sigh.  “You’re no help, and that boy is tacky.”  Sakuya just gapes at that, and Higan snorts with laughter in the corner.  Belkia straightens his vibrant orange scarf and continues, “So we’ll just go with something classic for you, I guess; something expected.”  He lays a hot pink tie patterned with slightly lighter-pink stars over Sakuya’s shoulder and nods in satisfaction. 

Sakuya turns to look in the mirror again.  The tie Belkia’s picked out is silk and simple and Sakuya’s favorite color, actually, and he can’t stop a flush from gathering in his cheeks at being so predictable.  He ties it quickly and smooths it over his chest, clearing his throat.  “Thanks,” he says quickly, shuffling his feet.

“Oh, I’ll make you repay me at some point, Saku, don’t you worry,” Belkia giggles.

“Text your little friend and let him know you’ll be a little late,” Higan says from the corner, not looking up from his work.  “I’m not lettin you go out not looking your best.”

Sakuya pulls out his phone and thumbs it open, but he only hovers over the keyboard, suddenly uncertain of what to say.  Mahiru will be disappointed.  Maybe he’ll even say something like “it’s okay, Sakuya, just meet me there instead of at my place!” And he’ll start his night off laughing with Ryuusei and Koyuki and all their other classmates, and by the time Sakuya actually shows up it will be so awkward that he won’t even go in…

And why should he?  He doesn’t even know how to dance…

“I don’t want you in here if you’re just going to mope, Saku-chan.  Get out of my room!  Higan will come find you when your jacket is done.”

And Belkia shoves him unceremoniously out into the hallway, snapping the door shut behind him.

Sakuya stands there stunned for a brief moment, until his attention is drawn by his phone buzzing.

_ Mahiru: Ahhhh sakuya im sorry! Kuro and I are still trying to figure out how to get him into the dance so im not ready to go yet im really sorry but I think we’ll have to be a little late!! I hope you haven’t left yet! _

Sakuya takes a deep breath, and then replies, ‘ _ yeah no prob im running a little late too.’ _

That guy must be some kind of mind reader. 

Rubbing his sweaty hands on his slacks, Sakuya wanders out towards the great room to distract himself from just loitering outside Belkia’s door until Higan finishes altering his jacket.

“This is ridiculous,” he hears Shamrock say before he even reaches the end of the hall.  He freezes and turns on his heel to hurry away, but then on the edge of his hearing comes a response.

“It’s nice,” Otogiri says softly.  Sakuya looks over his shoulder, curiosity a little piqued by what she could be talking about.

“It’s farcical is what it is,” Shamrock snaps.

“Rude.”

“He’s our enemy!  Watanuki can’t play both sides of the field like this—“

“Shamrock…”

“And you all, encouraging him!  When that brat betrays us, I’m going to be the only one Tsubaki doesn’t dispose of.”

“Tsubaki wouldn’t.  Not even Sakuya if he betrayed us.  Helping is nice, and you should consider it.”

Sakuya clears his throat in the archway, having heard enough.  From here he sees the back of Otogiri’s head where she’s sitting on the couch and Shamrock pacing in front of her.  Sham’s head jerks up at the noise, and the look on his face is the stern and disapproving one that Sakuya is swiftly coming to recognize as meant for his eyes only.  Otogiri, on the other hand, looks as placid as ever, except that she leaves whatever she’s bent over on the coffee table to come and take Sakuya’s hand.

“Which do you like?  Carnations or roses?” She asks, sitting him down in front of what appears to be most of a flower shop’s inventory.

Sakuya’s stomach squirms at the thought of showing up at Mahiru’s with roses.  “C-carnations, I guess,” he says, and in only a brief moment Otogiri has tied up a little pink carnation and a couple of sprigs of greenery in a small length of her string.  Deep in concentration, her tongue sticks out a bit as she leans in to pin the flowers to his chest.  When she pulls back, her always-calm face radiates satisfaction.

“Ready to go,” she says.

Shamrock snorts.

“Undignified,” Otogiri says with an air of finality, knocking against his shoulder as she leaves the room: leaves Sakuya alone with Shamrock.

Sham glares daggers at her retreating back.  Once she’s out of sight, he turns back to Sakuya and crosses his arms firmly over his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sakuya says mutinously.  “I already know you think I’m garbage.”  He takes a deep breath.  “But I’m going to dance with Mahiru…and I’m going to have fun.  Just tonight.  We won’t even talk about vampires, probably, especially not Tsubaki.  I—“

“Just stop talking,” Sham interrupts.  A roll of anxiety prickles Sakuya’s skin from forehead to toes, but he doesn’t back down.  Shamrock’s one eye holds his.

At that moment, however, Higan comes down the hall.  He wanders over to Sakuya, either unware of or ignoring the tension in the room.

“Can’t help it being a rush job, but it’ll do you just fine,” he says.  He commands Sakuya to hold out his arms and settles the jacket on his shoulders, walking around him in a circle and nodding his approval.  “Think you’re good to go, kid.”

Shamrock snorts again, and Higan looks at him for the first time, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. 

“Gesundheit,” he says, patting Shamrock on the shoulder and wandering off again.

Sakuya heads for the door while Sham is still stunned in offense, but he can’t resist nervously checking his reflection one last time in the toaster, which gives Sham plenty of time to recover and accost him again.

“Enough.  This is ridiculous, I’m—“

“Will you just  _ stop?”  _ Sakuya demands, balling his fists.  A fight with Shamrock will only make him later, only increase his chances of looking like a fool or a criminal.  But he bares his teeth regardless, unwilling to back down, unwilling to give this up.

Shamrock straightens his ramrod posture and tugs primly at his own lapels.  “You can’t leave with your hair looking like that.”

“What?”

“It’s everywhere, like always.  Do you own a comb?”

Sakuya narrows his eyes.  “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”  If Shamrock thinks that faking acceptance will change the way Sakuya thinks, then he’s going to be disappointed.

“All the other imbeciles here seem positively giddy to enable you, so it’s unlikely that my—very reasonable—objection will have much effect.  Therefore, I must do what I can; I will be your chaperone.”

“ _ What. _ ”

“Well, someone has to make sure not only that you don’t betray us, but also that the Sloth boy doesn’t take advantage of you.  After all, Tsubaki would never forgive himself.”

Before Sakuya can say another word in protest, Sham is attacking him with a comb he seems to have produced from nowhere.  A brief tussle ensues, in which Shamrock is elbowed in the ribs three times and Sakuya’s eye is nearly put out by the end of a barrette, but when the whole thing is over and Sakuya catches his wavery reflection in the toaster once more, he has to suck in a breath.

“There,” Shamrock says haughtily, straightening his clothes again and stowing his comb away.  He snatches his car keys off the hook next to the door and adds, “are you coming?”

Sakuya touches the clover-shaped clip behind his ear and follows Shamrock out the door in silence.

\--

He’s never actually rung Mahiru’s doorbell before.  Every time he has ever visited, either Mahiru was by his side or the door was left standing open for him.  Standing in front of his door now, it’s all Sakuya can think about.  Shamrock is waiting downstairs in the car, Mahiru is waiting for him inside, but Sakuya’s hand freezes over the buzzer, mind going completely blank with anxiety.

The door swings open suddenly, revealing a flushed and grinning Mahiru.  Sakuya jerks his hand back from where it’s still outstretched.  The surprise and the fact that he’s actually face-to-face with Mahiru for the first time in weeks do nothing for Sakuya’s ability to form words, and humiliation starts to burn in his chest as he just stares like an idiot.

“Sakuya!” A huge grin splits Mahiru’s face as he looks Sakuya up and down, and by the time they lock eyes again they’re both blushing.  “You look…you look really good!”

Sakuya goes to rub the back of his head but stops an inch from his hair—can’t mess up all of Sham’s hard work, after all. 

“Thanks,” he says with a little laugh, “I had some help, though.  Oh!  Here.”  He shoves his hand into his pocket, but before he can find the second sprig of flowers that Otogiri prepared for them, he finds a weird bit of cloth.  Pulling it out, he’s struck again with emotion when he sees that it’s a handkerchief with a little red scorpion embroidered in the corner.

_ This fucking family. _

“Sakuya?  Is everything okay?” Mahiru asks, and Sakuya shoves the handkerchief back in his pocket.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” 

He has to lean in very close to slip the boutonniere through Mahiru’s buttonhole; the distance didn’t seem awkward when Otogiri did the same for him, but now that he’s fumbling inches from Mahiru’s chest he’s bathed in giddy embarrassment.

A little snort from behind Mahiru makes Sakuya look up and over his shoulder.  Sloth is slumped against the doorframe, watching the two of them with what might pass for an amused smile on his face.

“Being late is bothersome,” Sloth says, “but not as bothersome as being early.  Good job.”

Is that a compliment?  It’s honestly impossible to tell.

“I thought it would be simplest for Kuro to just act like he was a classmate, since I don’t have my backpack and I can’t just carry him into the dance,” Mahiru says.  He bounces on the balls of his feet and keeps flicking his eyes away from Sakuya’s; his face is a little flushed from Sakuya’s proximity, and he can’t seem to fight down his nervous energy.

Like he’s just waiting for Sakuya to get upset with him or something.  Beneath the low, buzzing lights in the breezeway, Mahiru’s hair has a soft shine to it; he’s combed his hair, Sakuya realizes with a jolt.  He wants to ruffle it.  He thrills with the most absurd urge to just pull Mahiru into his arms and rub his cheek on top of his hair.

“Uh.”

Mahiru is looking at him now, still jittery and unsure.  Sakuya shakes his head compulsively, then smiles.

“Sounds straightforward,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Mahiru’s as they all head for the elevator.  “But just so you know, Shamrock drove me here, so you’re gonna have to ride in a car with him.”

Sloth groans behind them, but Mahiru just laughs and winds his fingers through Sakuya’s.

This close and buoyed up by the physical proof of support--or at least protectiveness of their own--that his fellow subclass have left all over his body, Sakuya tips his head next to Mahiru’s and whispers:

“Just so you know, I can’t dance at all.”

The brush of Mahiru’s breath on his ear makes him shiver.

“Me neither,” he whispers, a secret just between them.

\--

“Did you ever think you’d be up here like this?”

Light pollution blocks out most of the stars.  Sakuya’s legs dangle over the side of the school roof, and the feeling of Mahiru sitting beside him anchors Sakuya in place.

“What do you mean?” Sakuya asks, bumping the heel of his shoe against the wall to the rhythm of the music playing far below them.  They had spent maybe an hour making a laughable attempt at dancing until the heat and the crowd started pressing in on Sakuya and they retreated up to the familiarity of the roof.

“Oh, you know…after hours, up here, together.”  With his free hand, Mahiru traces random shapes on the railing.  “With our whole class having fun down there.  After everything that’s happened…I guess it just feels surreal.  I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve only known each other for a little over a year,” Sakuya reminds him.  The false memories of a childhood friendship should be completely gone; Mahiru knows the whole truth now, too well for it to be disguised even a little.  Sometimes Sakuya finds himself drenched in cold sweat, certain that he would reach out and Mahiru would turn aside, but above all else he is learning that all he can do is trust.

“I know.  But this feels almost like coming home all the same.  I know, I know I’m really cheesy and it’s embarrassing, but I’m just so happy.”

“You are embarrassing.”  But Sakuya’s lips twitch helplessly into a smile anyway when he turns his head to hide inside his collar. 

And then he almost loses his balance when he feels a soft, dry kiss on his cheek.

All that illuminates them where they’re perched close to the sky is the drifting light from the lanterns several stories below and the distant, high moon.  In such uncertain light, Mahiru is the only steady thing, unchanged by the play of shadows across his face, unshakeable in his  _ simplicity.  _ Sakuya’s heart melts in his chest and floods his whole body with warmth until even the tips of his toes are tingling.

He leans in next and kisses Mahiru the same.

**Author's Note:**

> EPILOGUE: “SAVE ROOM FOR JESUS” Shamrock shrieks from his hiding place  
> “would you like an hors d'oeuvre,” kuro says, offering his piled-high plate to pacify the panting, raging Shamrock
> 
> and scene
> 
> (you can find me at haloud.tumblr.com)


End file.
